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#90 I'm an old truck



Pickup truck and SUV ads often show their vehicles climbing mountains, hauling heavy logs and construction equipment over rugged terrain, rolling across deserts, and blasting through snow drifts. These trucks are shown as capable, dependable, rugged, and durable.

In days past, trucks were shown as workhorses capable of hard labor in terrible conditions and hardly much more than that. They were spartan in their makeup, often with rubber floorboards, no radios, single cabs, and crank windows (look that one up, kids).





Today’s trucks by comparison are loaded with amenities rivaling a room at a Dubai hotel. They come standard with heated Corinthian leather seats, towing packages that include wrap around cameras that can see through your camper or boat trailer, they park themselves, they have every feature one could imagine. A computer screen displays every function on the truck, including lights, sound systems (no longer just called a radio), GPS, and climate control. Luxury pickup trucks that cost more than some homes.


Funny, though, I never see people driving their truck like the rugged all terrain vehicle as was designed by forward-thinking engineers. I’ve seen people slow to a near stop to enter a parking lot driveway, they creep slowly over a miniscule speed bump. They polish the inner fender wells where they’ve installed lights to shine on the shock absorbers (as if that’s important??). They drive their rugged trucks like a Rolls Royce.


Older, tougher trucks regularly run over a million miles. They may look a little worn and rusty, but they still get the job done. They start up every morning ready to take on the toughest job. They’ll never let you down. They run all day, in the heat or the frigid cold working hard for you despite their advanced years and wear. It’s as if they say every morning as you head down the driveway to climb aboard them,


“Dude, I got you. Come on. Let’s go do this shit.”


Allow me to digress here for a moment. I suppose this sentiment doesn’t just apply to trucks. Most things built decades ago have withstood the ages. We’ve all seen avocado green or harvest yellow refrigerators in someone’s garage (mostly holding beer). In fact, most kitchen appliances from fifty years ago outlast anything built today. We have a piss yellow Kitchen Aid mixer we inherited from the mother-in-law that has outlasted three of our more modern models of the same brand. Okay, rant over. Let’s get back to the regularly scheduled program.


We are kinda like trucks. We come from the factory as perfect units, designed to be rugged, hardworking, dependable, durable, and capable of running for decades. Despite this rugged design, we behave like we are made of Waterford crystal.


When I was a kid, we climbed trees, ran our bikes over sketchy handmade ramps, lit fires, jumped off of garages and sheds, swung from ropes over ponds and creeks, played on steel “jungle gyms” and metal slides twelve feet tall. Those metal slides were basically cookie sheets – and we were the dough. We were tough, rugged, durable. If we got scratched or dented, we rubbed dirt on it and kept going. (Mostly because if we told mom we scraped ourselves, she would douse us in Mercurochrome – and we would wind up howling at the moon)


I’ve said for years (and was just discussing this with a client recently) that humans are fragile, yet durable. It doesn’t take much to damage us (ever had a paper cut?) but it sure takes a lot to kill us. As a twenty-three year veteran of police work, I’ve seen a thousand ways to get hurt – badly. But I’ve also seen that it takes a lot of hurting (or hurt in just the right way) to kill us.


We can take so much punishment, yet we have become so careful with ourselves. Kids’ playgrounds are now made of plastic climbing stations barely five feet tall. They are assuredly not going to hurt themselves. Gone are the metal framed jungle gyms, the tall slides, and the spinning carousels of death. I’ve not driven by a single yard in the last twenty years and seen a kid climbing a tree. I haven’t seen any kids ramping their bikes lately, either. Adults don’t play hard, either. Few of us climb mountains, swim in lakes, or ride bikes anymore. It’s as if we have traded our rugged trucks in for a delicate luxury car, afraid of getting dirt on it.


You were built to spend time in the sun, in the woods, outside somewhere, doing something interesting. You were designed to do something dangerous. We were built to take quite a bit of damage, but we don’t take the chance.


A couple of years ago, I took my kids to the local roller rink. I had practically grown up on skates and skateboards, but it had been 35 years since I tried it. Okay, I admit. I looked like a newborn foal, but I got out there and tried it. After a bit I didn’t need to hug the wall as much.


As much.


I recently started running, but I had to stop because my working schedule prevents me from doing it as often as I like. I’m going to try to get back to it. Being outside sweating my ass off, huffing and puffing, and forcing myself to keep going is a fantastic way for me to clear my mind and let it wander.


Yes, I’m an old truck. I’ve got lots of miles. I’m a little rusty and I’ve got a few dents. But I would like to think I am still rugged and tough. I practice my martial arts, I do my pushups and kettlebells. I would also like to think I’m dependable, durable, and capable.

I’ve been saying for years that I would rather wear out than rust out.


I would rather my body break down and give up on me because I asked too much of it than to have my body seize up on me and quit working because I haven’t asked enough. That whole Newton’s First Law thing.


We are built to be rugged, tough, capable. Our bodies are tough, capable of long-distance races, great feats of strength, climbing mountains (or taking a trail hike up a decent hill) and incredible athletic performances. In fact, we were built for the outside world. We need vitamin D from sunlight to stay healthy. We need exposure to the dirt (doesn’t a fresh dug hole smell intoxicating?) We need quiet time in the woods for our mental and physical well-being.


 

You are not a luxury vehicle to be kept in a garage and polished with a diaper. You are a tough farm work truck.


Get out there and get dirty.




 

 

Weeg

 

 

Joe “Weeg” Weigant is a Board Certified Massage Therapist, Holistic Health Authority, Reiki Master Teacher, Herbalist, Metaphysician, and Empowerment Coach. He combines bodywork, energy work, and coaching to improve quality of life by healing from the outside in and from the inside out.

Weeg sells Nature’s Sunshine Products, Pure Herbs Ltd., doTERRA, and Juice Plus+. Weeg suggests lifestyle changes and provides herbal remedies to his clients so they may build new habits for long life and vibrant health. He teaches Karate and Tai Chi, Reiki Certification, as well as seminars and workshops in metaphysical and spiritual matters. Weeg is available for sessions at Tri State Holistic Wellness by appointment only.

 

Contact by text 812.568.5356, or Facebook Messenger to set an appointment.

 

 

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